


Lapful of Joy

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Christmas Party, Drunken Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 09:54:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17139635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Jack considers the office Christmas party a waste of time, at least until a drunk omega in a pair of gaudy shorts somehow winds up straddling him.





	Lapful of Joy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rainbowpui](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbowpui/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to my friend Niji!! Hope you like this fic about Rhys in cute booty shorts hahah :D

Jack didn’t usually enjoy the Hyperion Christmas party. 

Mostly because Tassiter insisted on pooling all the employees together and letting everyone attend, regardless of department or position. Sure, there was a modest dress code in place to weed out the true undesirables, but Jack didn’t really want to spend his time rubbing elbows with weird mailroom people or annoying ass-kissers from further down the ladder. If you were a relative nobody in Hyperion sure, it was probably fine, but when you were Jack Lawrence, handsome head of Programming, then you had to field a lot of weirdos eager to butter you up. 

Jack would much rather throw his own holiday party at his penthouse, with all the proper class and a curated guest list, but he had’t had the time this year with work. Next Christmas, he promised to himself as he cinched the yellow tie around his throat, admiring his outfit in the bedroom mirror. 

He’d dressed himself in an outfit a little fancier than the one he usually wore to work. His charcoal blazer matched his slacks, fabric crossed with nigh-imperceptible pinstripes. Beneath he wore a black button up and the aforementioned tie—a gift from Nisha from some years back, when they’d still been dating. He liked the feel and look well enough to keep it apart of his formalwear rotation, and it matched the little gold buttons on his blazer. 

He sprayed himself with one last cloud of cologne—designed to bolster his existing alpha musk—before determining his look complete and heading out the penthouse. 

It didn’t take long to get to the high-rise where Tassiter had decided to host the party, considering Jack already lived in the ritzy heart of Downtown Helios. He handed his keys off to the valet and took the elevator up to the highest floor, not bothering to strike up conversation with any of the other guests and almost immediately heading for the bar once he stepped into the event, only pausing to shake a couple hands and wish those attached a perfunctory “Happy Holidays.”

Thankfully, the drinks were plenty. Tassiter wasn’t so much of a tight-ass that he’d deprive his workforce of free-flowing booze at the company party, and before long Jack had drained his first whiskey sour and ambled back to the bar for more. This time, he picked one of the “seasonal” drinks presented on the custom menu and watched as the bartender mixed white chocolate liqueur and peppermint schnapps together. 

Jack smacked his lips after a sip—bit sweet for his taste, but it helped settle him in a festive mood as the alcohol warmed its way through his system. If he was here, he might as well enjoy himself. Maybe keep an eye out for a bit of tail to make things interesting. But that was a _big_ maybe. Jack had high standards, after all. 

He wended between the tables to pick out one properly deserted near the edge of the party, by one of the walls. He sat down, cradling his delicate martini glass as he sipped his drink and watched. Usually, he liked being the center of attention, but tonight he felt content to observe other people as they made asses of themselves. 

Jack waved over any servers that passed by carrying appetizers that caught his eye, soon amassing a decent stack on his little plate that he picked at as he continued his people watching. 

Guests were already starting to cut loose. Much as Tassiter might want the party to remain a chaste, classy affair, that wasn’t about to happen with a bunch of moderately attractive employees jammed in a single place with alcohol flowing and at least a years worth of pent up sexual tension. Jack was already noticing busy lips and occupied hands, knees rubbed up together underneath the short cloths covering the tables. Eager scents mingled through the air, piquing Jack’s interest but not enough to get him rising from the table. He liked where he was, halfway through a peppermint martini and hoarding a perpetual plate of appetizers.

Thing passed fairly uneventfully, up until the point where an upset wail suddenly sounded out above the noise of the festivities: 

“S-Someone took my pants!”

Jack turned his head in the direction of the clamor, eyes immediately landing on where a skinny young man was stumbling out of the bathroom. It took Jack a moment to recognize him—distracted by the long, pale legs and cute socks pulled up calf-high by a pair of black garters—but the auburn hair and uniquely mismatched brown and blue eyes were unmistakably. 

Rhys—the pretty omega from Management. Slender, fair-skinned. Well-dressed. 

Well, usually. Rhys’ pristine blue suit jacket looked disheveled, the untucked hem of his shirt hanging around his hips and his red tie rumpled. Jack didn’t know how exactly Rhys had lost his pants, or who had taken them, or anything, but as the tipsy little thing stumbled around whining about his clothes Jack understood why he sounded so anxious.

Instead of plain boxer briefs, or even normally patterned underthings, Rhys wore a bright red pair of shorts that clung tight to the curves of his ass. Jack squinted, just able to make out the phrase “On the Naughty List” emblazoned in sparkly green letters across both cheeks. 

Jack snorted into his drink. Rhys probably never expected to show off _those_ to employees across all Hyperion departments. Poor guy. He sure looked cute in them, though.

“Yvette! Yvette, did you take my pants?” Rhys whimpered, winding a wobbly path right by Jack’s table. “I know you wanted people to see my shorts but it’s not fair!”

Jack blinked rapidly, his nostrils flaring as he got a sudden whiff of Rhy’s scent. _Oh_. 

Usually the omega’s scent wasn’t that strong. Jack knew Rhys spritzed his clothes with a heavier, woodsier scent designed to mask his own. He understood the reasoning—omegas in the upper echelons of the corporate world benefited greatly if they masked their scent, reducing interference by aggressive alphas—but felt pleased to finally get a proper read on Rhys’ _true_ scent. 

“No one was supposed to see these…” The omega moaned, covering his face with his hands and leaving his festive shorts entirely on display as Rhys paused right in front of Jack. He could see other partygoers glancing over Rhys’ way, a couple chuckles rippling through the crowd. He even noted some other alphas looking Rhys over from beyond the rim of their wine glasses, murmuring to one another with scheming smiles on their lips. 

Plied by the alcohol and suddenly annoyed with the expressions of the other guests, Jack leaned forward in his chair and reached out, grabbing Rhys by the hip and yanking the omega back.

Rhys squeaked, losing his balance and falling into Jack’s lap with a thump. Jack twitched pleasantly as Rhys’ ass bounced against his groin, those skimpy shorts riding up as the omega squirmed.

“E-Excuse me, Mr. Lawrence!” Rhys placed his hand against Jack’ thigh as he tried to sit up. Jack just smiled. The omega, in his tipsy state, probably thought he’d tripped. 

“Hush. I’m trying to help you out, sugar,” Jack mumbled in the omega’s ear, “perfect place to hide your lil’ misstep.”

“Oh.” Rhys stiffened, his nails curling against the fabric of Jack’s dress pants. “Okay.”

Jack almost snorted at how easily Rhys accepted the sudden change in situation. Was the omega really that drunk? He looked a little glassy-eyed and wavered a bit in Jack’s lap, but he wasn’t completely toasted just yet. Still, Jack kept one hand on his hip, holding him steady.

Rhys fussed a little, his attention split between the man who’s lap he’d landed on and the crowd around them. Thankfully, the other alphas had apparently decided to back off, turning back to their drinks and friends and leaving Jack be with the omega in his lap. 

“C’mon pumpkin. Relax and enjoy the party.” Jack patted his thigh with his other hand. “You’ve got the best seat in the house.”

“I…Yes, Mr. Lawrence,” Rhys replied, tone obedient but slowed with alcohol, finally looking away from the crowd and down at his own lap. Jack left his hand on the omega’s thigh, loving how his large palm nearly spread across the breadth of it. And Rhys’ legs, though slender, weren’t sickly thin but instead soft and pliable with tender omega flesh. Jack played with the hem of the shorts, feeling how filmy the fabric was. Jack was sure he could rip it if he dug his nails in hard enough.

“So are you really on the naughty list, pumpkin?” Jack asked as he offered Rhys a sip of his drink. “Or was your ass lying to me?”

Rhys hesitated for a moment, before his lips slipped open to take a long drink of Jack’s martini. The alpha chuckled as he pulled the glass away, a little drool of white chocolate trickling down Rhys’ chin. 

“Dunno…just a joke…” Rhys licked at the spilled bit of drink as best as he could, though a pearly drop escaped him. “Wasn’t…supposed to have anyone see it…”

“Well, I think it looks just adorable on you, Rhysie.” Jack nuzzled against the side of the omega’s neck, feeling his pulse flutter with interest beneath his lips. “Though I think I’d like them better around your ankles.”

Rhys shuddered in his lap, the motion traveling down to Jack’s cock. He was slowly getting hard in his pants. Rhys could surely feel it, but perhaps didn’t know exactly what he should be doing. That was fine—Jack didn’t mind taking the lead. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll work our way up to that,” Jack purred into Rhys’ ear, grabbing a crostini from the plate and holding it up to the omega’s lips. “Eat. Enjoy yourself. I’ll take good care of you tonight.”

Rhys nodded, opening his mouth again to accept the morsel. This time his lips, moist and loose, brushed up against Jack’s fingers. _God_. He was so frikkin’ cute. 

This close, he could smell Rhys’ scent even better. It oozed out over his bare legs, spreading out in a little bubble around the both of them, contrasting with Jack’s heady musk. The spray of false pheromones against the wool of his jacket barely held up under the double onslaught. Once he finished feeding Rhys, his hand drifted down to the buttons of his suit, slipping them open. 

He pressed his palm against the satiny feel of Rhys’ vest one he got the jacket open, feeling the flutter of the omega’s belly as his breathing hitched. Rhys leaned back against him as Jack rested his head against his shoulder, looking down his body. 

He trailed his hand down Rhys’ front, eventually letting it rest against the little mound at his groin. He felt Rhys twitch with warmth underneath his palm, the petite shape he could feel through the thin fabric already delighting him. He could only imagine what Rhys looked like underneath, his cute omega cock already growing damp with need. He knew it could easily fit into the palm of his hand, or in his mouth. Maybe he could even take Rhys all the way up to the hilt with ease. Jack could make him come apart _so_ easily, he was sure.

The contrast between Rhys’ relatively well-dressed torso and his bare, creamy legs delighted Jack. He wanted badly to mark up those thighs, litter then with red marks and bruises Rhys would feel underneath his dress pants for weeks. To bite him right where he would press into his office chair. Maybe if he did it hard enough it’d draw Rhys back to him, the sting enough to remind him of the alpha’s feelings. So many fantasies clustered in his head now that he finally had Rhys in his clutches, pliable and oh-so-delightfully _responsive._

Yet much as he wanted to keep going, he’d certainly get heat from Tassiter if he tried getting to second base with an omega during the company Christmas party. So he kissed the side of Rhys’ neck, right beneath his tender little earlobe. 

“You wanna get outta here, sugar?” Jack pressed kisses down his neck, reaching the bit of skin right above Rhys’ shirt collar. “I’d like to see how naughty you can really get.”

He badly wanted to rut his dick against those flimsy shorts before he ripped them off of the omega’s body. 

Rhys turned, breath passing wetly through his little pink lips, and Jack wants to bite and _ruin_ them the moment a little noise, barely words, fell from them.

“ _Please, Mr. Lawrence.”_


End file.
